The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3) (4 page)

“And I just abandoned him and sent him back to her. I should’ve trusted him more.” I shake my head.

“Fuck no! Look, I think what he was asking is above and beyond what any normal girlfriend would deem acceptable interaction with an ex but if you love him there is obviously a middle ground. Its up to you to set what that is but I don’t see that you should be handing him over on a silver platter either.” She straightens her back and tilts her head goading me, trying to fire my spark but although I felt it heat for a moment it fizzled out just as quickly.

“I might be wrong about her you know. She may just need some help from an old friend.” I have to consider the possibility that my view of the world is somewhat tainted. The result is I do, in fact, see psycho bitches when I hear clipping heels. They could just as easily be a simple pair of really nice Jimmy Choos.

“Well you think that if it helps you sleep.” She pats her hand on my knee and tightens her lip. “So has he called, text or been banging on your door like he should?”

“Daniel doesn’t deal that way. In fact I doubt I’ll hear from him at all.” I let out a deep sad gasp. “Sorry.” My eyes spill with a fountain of tears that this time I can’t control and Sofia is quickly kneeling beside me with her arms wrapped around my head pulling me silently against her chest.

“Oh sweetheart I’m so sorry Bets, shhh.” She smooth’s my hair and whispers repeatedly how sorry she is but I know in my empty heart she’s nowhere near as sorry as I am.

The next day I get a boxed delivery from the restaurant with a personal but threatening note from Joe explaining he has lovingly prepared my favourite dishes and that he would be round later to check I’d eaten everything. I optimistically go through the motions of heating and dishing up the delicious food. He had packed enough for a dinner party of six, not a single woman struggling to hold down bread. A feast of still warm lemon, olive oil and rosemary loaf, cheesy cauliflower gratin with pancetta, ricotta gnocchi with creamy wild asparagus sauce, fried sweet peppers with balsamic vinegar and my favourite favourite spinach and ricotta ravioli with sage butter. For dessert there are individual pots of chocolate and amaretto panna cotta with a small tray of dark chocolate dipped strawberries. It looks amazing, it smells fantastic and even as my tummy rumbles I covered each dish with cling. I just couldn’t physically bring myself to put anything in my mouth. I did try but each time my mouth pooled with water and I felt the urge to wretch but Marco is back today on a late flight so I know it won’t go to waste. That in itself is only small comfort as I dejectedly nibble on my dry toast.

ProProducts
is a small firm of maybe ten researchers and three directors. One of which is Christopher Taylor the Finance Director, who also has a second job as a part-time lecturer at my University. I met him on one occasion before Mr Wilson informed me of this internship opportunity just before Christmas and then I met him once more at my interview but I have not really seen much of him since then. The office is in a shared facility with many other type of IT or media companies each renting a small part of a much bigger building. As such the facilities are much better than a stand-alone office of this size could provide. There is a small coffee bar and an actual bar that opens in the evening. There are ultra-modern and high tech screening rooms for presentations to hire and there is a large chill out area in the basement, with a pool table and vending machines for the offices that hold unsociable work hours. The
ProProducts
office occupies part of the first floor and is open plan with small funky cubicles and three separate offices at one end for the directors and a small meeting room.

I take my seat at my desk just after eight and I’m pleased to be the first in the office. I am also pleased that it has been at least five minutes since I last thought about Daniel which is a big improvement on the five-second intervals of the last week. I check my email and notice an urgent appointment notification for nine thirty this morning with Christopher Taylor. I spend the next hour and half just stacking my piles of paper on my desk into manageable sections and prioritising my ‘to do’ list. As others start to come in I get a strange feeling that I might be missing something, maybe a significant event, maybe someone has died. There is a definite sombre feel and I have yet to speak to anyone, everyone is studiously sitting with their heads buried. Just before nine thirty I gather my bag and make my way to the corner office of Christopher Taylor; Finance Director. I knock gently. I didn’t see him come but he is quick to ask me to enter and briskly asks me to take a seat. It’s difficult to tell whether my sinking feeling in my stomach is portent or whether it’s just this ongoing bug. I simply feel damn sick all the time so I just don’t know.

His office is a mess, stacks and stacks of paper crowd his desk, the floor and the surrounding walls leaning against any and all available space. His desk is clear but I think that is because he has scraped everything on to the floor. Behind him is a wall full of shelving with reference books, codes of practice, reference material and application guidance books. All wedged and crammed so not a millimetre of space is wasted. I move the stack of papers on the only chair opposite his desk and carefully sit, mindful that he is not his usual friendly self. I have only met him on a couple of occasions but he was definitely more relaxed then. In fact he looks distinctly uncomfortable. He is a tall man, slim, attractive and he is shifting in his seat. He is wearing jeans and a button down white shirt, more casual than when he is at the University but this place is more on the informal side. His hair is a darker blonde now that he has had it cut much shorter and he no longer sports the roguish stubble. He seems nervous and bizarrely I feel sorry for him when it’s me that has been called to a rather ominous meeting; I take pity on him.

“Mr Taylor is there a problem?” My voice is calm if a little shaky.

“Chris, call me Chris and why would you ask that?” His brows knit together and he leans his elbows on his desk.

“Oh it might just be me but it seems a little quiet out there and well, you look . . . um . . . tense.” I try to smile some comfort and he gives only the tightest smile back.

“Right well, ” He straightens his back and grimaces like he is about to do something unpleasant. He is about to do something unpleasant. “I regret that we are going to have to let you go.” He rushes the words then adds as if he forgot, “with immediate effect.” He sits back a little, gauging my reaction. To be honest I am not surprised, I have been a waste of space these last few weeks. Nevertheless I am still taken back, it’s just that I have never been made redundant before.

“Oh I see, well I guess I understand.” My voice is quiet and I go to pick up my bag.

“You don’t seem surprised?” Chris’s voice has an edge that makes me look up, he is cross. Why the hell should he be cross? He still has a job, no wait, he still has
two
jobs.

“Well, I know I haven’t been here long and I’ve had to have had some unexpected time off . . . so I guess it’s not a huge surprise that you made me redundant.” I stand and shrug.

He stands quickly and the chair tips over, his voice is quiet but firm “We didn’t make you redundant Bethany you’ve been fired!” He places his knuckles on the desk and his scowl is burning into me.

“Fired but why?” I slip back down into the seat in utter shock and my whispered words are enough to cause Chris to step around the desk and crouch in front of me.

“Bethany look at me.” I meet his eyes but I can feel mine start to pool with liquid. “We have to take theft very seriously. This is what we do here, it’s all about our research and protecting our Intellectual Property.” I am nodding as he speaks. “We won’t be pressing charges but—”

I interrupt before his words actually register. “—I know, of course. Wait! . . . what? What theft? Have I stolen something? You think I stole something?” I can hear my voice start to rise and large warm drops of tears hit my cheek. Chris reaches into his pocket and hands me a soft cotton handkerchief. “I haven’t stolen anything Chris, I wouldn’t.” I shake my head and sob a little more. I can’t believe this is happening. He stands and sits quietly on the edge of his desk while I gather myself and stop crying. “I don’t understand.” I finally manage to say without causing more tears.

He draws in a deep breath and continues to look at me and since I have nothing to hide I meet his stare. “The project you have been working on, the safety system for cyclists. The patent search results came back and it already has a patent pending.” He hands me some papers and I slowly flick through. There is not much here but it is definitely my design, my outline and my proposal. I must look confused but he chooses not to elaborate his findings.

“This is my project, this . . .” I wave the paper to highlight my focus. “This is mine, how could I steal it if it’s already mine?” I stifle another sob.

He lets out a frustrated huff like he is talking to an annoying child and I’m sorry I don’t understand but the document in my hand is mine, I wrote it. “Look at the back, the name of the company applying for the patent, the lead partner and the date. That date is nearly twelve months before you
claim
to have come up with the idea and still six months before you had submitted this outline?” The sentence is phrased as a question but I have stopped listening. All I can see is the name of the applicant
Stone R & D Ltd
. It doesn’t matter what I say right now, no one is going to believe me. Funny that they will happily believe I would hack my way in to Daniel’s R & D Company and steal a project idea though. I laugh bitterly, if only I were that good, that corrupt, if only I was more like Kit. I wince at that inner thought, realisation that I may have hit a new low for me. “This is very serious Bethany.” His angry tone makes me realise I laughed out loud. “This could affect your position on your course at the University. If it is found you have been plagiarising in other areas of your work.”

My head snaps and I stand. “I don’t plagiarise and I didn’t steal shit. If you want to believe that, well that’s your call and there is nothing I can do about that but don’t think for one minute this ends here! I didn’t steal anything and I’ll prove it.” I snatch my bag and turn abruptly for the door.

“Bethany.” His voice is softer and I turn to see his face, his eyes seem less harsh and he is trying to smile but it doesn’t quite make it. “I am sorry and for what it’s worth I didn’t think you did it but we just can’t take the risk, well, anyway . . . I just wish I knew how this could’ve happened.”

I snort. “That is exactly what I’m going to find out.” I leave his room and see an office full of bobbing heads snap down to focus on their work, even if it is just until I leave the building.

Once outside I stagger to the nearest bench as my vision blurs and I feel lightheaded. I don’t feel sad anymore, so no more pathetic tears. I don’t feel numb anymore so no more wistful recollections I just feel pure fucking rage. Hasn’t he taken enough? Did he really need this too? God if Chris is right and I could lose my place on my course, fuck I can’t even process how angry I would be. In one hit I think I’d just have to rip his bollocks right off and smile at the knowledge that Angel would lose her sperm donor at the same time. Christ, he just brings out the best in me. I shake these foreign thoughts from my head and call someone who might be able to help. The phone rings several times, I hear it switch to an alternate line before it is answered.

“Economics Faculty can I help?” The bright pleasant voice answers Mr Wilson’s phone throwing me completely.

“Oh I’m sorry I was trying to get hold of Mr Wilson. I must have dialled the wrong number.” I apologise.

“—No no you have the right number but Mr Wilson’s calls will be transferred here while he is away.” She assures me.

“Oh right. Do you know when he is due back I really need to speak to him urgently?” It might not be life threatening urgent but it is urgent to me and it may well be life threatening to Mr Stone the way I’m feeling at the moment.

“He won’t be back until the week before the new semester in October I’m afraid. It’s pretty much admin staff and some occasional teaching staff but they keep irregular hours so I couldn’t guarantee—” I politely interrupt because either she hasn’t spoken to anyone in a really long time or she is just being super informative but she isn’t really telling me anything remotely helpful.

“—Thank you, that’s Ok. I’ll maybe drop him an email, he might check in with any luck. Thank you though.” I hang up. I will send an email when I get home but now I just have one more call to make. The first call to Daniel rings and rings, the second the same, the third gets transferred to answer phone as does the next fifteen. I can be a stalker too. I don’t leave a message but just hang on long enough to register my call. The next call gets answered and I feel a sudden panic as my heart races momentarily eclipsing my anger.

“Bethany this is Colin I am afraid Mr Stone won’t be able to take your call.” I can hear him swallow and I know he must feel almost as bad as I do about this call, almost. “Is there anything I can do to help?”